amfAR Gala at the Hôtel du Cap-Eden-Roc

Stepping out of the Hôtel du Cap-Eden-Roc after last night’s Cinema Against AIDS 21 fund-raiser for amfAR, I bumped into a bunch of American college students who’d been working at the event as volunteers and were still excited by their brush with celebrity. One pretty young woman showed me the terrific selfie she’d taken with Lana Del Rey—who’d earlier belted out “Will You Still Love Me?” for an ecstatic audience. Meanwhile, they all talked about her unholy thrill at seeing Justin Bieber in person. “He’s got this great big head and this tiny little body. He’s like an alien!” The group insisted that I report that they are not Bieber fans.

Like most of the people at the gala tent—whose walls were lined with Pirelli Calendar photos of models in assorted riffs on nudity—they’d clearly had a good time. Everywhere you looked you saw someone famous, from Karlie Kloss and Coco Rocha (whose bold black-and-white dress was a knockout), to Gael García Bernal and Jane Fonda, who, as a true child of Hollywood, has perfected the art of working a room of admirers. Even while emcee Harvey Weinstein told a humble-bragging anecdote—“Thank you, Harvey, for those inside jokes,” quipped cohost Milla Jovovich when he finished—the evening’s donors were eyeing the assembled list of luminaries: John Travolta and Marion Cotillard (who some are tipping for an acting prize at the Cannes festival), Jessica Chastain and Carla Bruni-Sarkozy,Heidi Klum and poor, overmatched Adrian Grenier. While Paris Hilton walked around complaining into her cell phone (always in character, that one), I just missed stepping on the long train of her dress for the second straight year. Inhabiting a plain above everyone else, the bronzed and bearded Leonardo DiCaprio moseyed his way from table to table, glass in hand, like the amfAR version of The Godfather.

The night’s purpose is to raise money for AIDS research, and this year’s event broke all records by pulling in $35 million dollars, many of them extracted with a dentist’s expert touch by auctioneer Sharon Stone, who, as ever, was the right blend of brassy and wheedling. Where last year’s big prize was a flight into space with DiCaprio—the same was offered again this year—the big earner was Damien Hirst’s gilded skeleton of a woolly mammoth. Walking in, I’d expected to make fun of it, but seen in person, inside its glass case overlooking the sea, the piece was quite beautiful. It sold for $15 million to a billionaire who spent the night seated next to Cannes jury president Jane Campion.

While the annual auction is always fun—“I enjoy seeing rich people spend a fortune on silly things,” said the very rich German financier next to me at the table—the night’s most dazzling event is the fashion show where the world’s top designers and models come together to celebrate a theme. This year it was the Red Collection, 42 pieces by everyone from the three Alexanders—McQueen, Terekhov, and Wang—to Versace and Vionnet. The whole shebang sold for $4.8 million to a man who looked like he might have 42 women to wear them.

Of course, it wouldn’t be an amfAR event without entertainment. In addition to Del Rey, who’ll be off singing at Kimye’s wedding tomorrow, the show featured egregious Robin Thicke,Aloe Blacc, and Andrea Bocelli who brought down the house with his rousing rendition of Verdi’s classic aria, “My Way.” (A bidder spent 1.1 million euros to have a dinner with Bocelli at the singer’s home in Tuscany.)

Still, for all the famous people, the night’s hottest star turned out to be Conchita Wurst, the bearded Austrian drag artist who won this year’s Eurovision Song Contest (which is a like a cross between American Idol and the World Cup). From the moment the performer walked in wearing her shimmery blue gown, everyone’s eyes were upon her, and literally scores of people, from celebrities to drunken British journalists, pushed forward to have their photo taken with her. In a room filled with known quantities, she was the newest big thing. And she was nice as pie.

“How does it feel to be the most famous person here?” I joked.

“Am I really?” she said coyly batting her eyes, then laughed. We talked a bit about her sudden fame, and she told me that she was hoping to be on Ellen soon. I said that was a good idea because Ellen would not only be sympathetic, but she loved music and they could do the Ellen dance together.

“And I think she likes cats,” Conchita said. “I love cats. I have one named Eric.” She reached toward her bag and then stopped with a sigh. “I just got a new phone and I’m embarrassed to say I don’t have a picture of my cat on it.”